


The Law Offices of Papyrus, Papyrus, and Papyrus

by UnderAnon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-07 00:59:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10348866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderAnon/pseuds/UnderAnon
Summary: Monsters have been released from the Underground, and Papyrus is a lawyer! Can you discover the clues and solve the puzzles before he does?





	1. Chapter 1

This takes place in the world of _Inseparable_. While it's not necessary to read that story before starting with this, it's probably a good idea.

This is a collection of self-contained who-dun-it mysteries. Odd-numbered chapters will pose the questions; even-numbered ones will have the answers. Everything you, the reader, need to determine who did it will be in the odd-numbered chapters, so you're strongly encouraged to guess for yourself! If the answer chapter hasn't come out yet, post your guess in the reviews.

* * *

Papyrus was sure his client was innocent.

This was rare for him. While the Dreemurrs were his most famous clients, they seldom needed his help; Frisk and Charles were effectively above the law and King Asgore enjoyed several flavors of diplomatic immunity. Therefore, he'd taken on a wide variety of clients, from personal-injury to corporate. His most popular practice, though, was criminal defense, and while he wasn't a public defender, he took it upon himself to champion the poor and downtrodden, often pro bone-o. Which, of course, usually meant that his clients were guilty, often of even more crimes than the ones they'd been caught for.

But Karl Hummel was none of those things, as Papyrus judged him; he was not guilty, he was not downtrodden, and he was certainly not poor. Not only had he gladly paid the skeleton a rather shocking per-hour sum, he'd recently bought a brand-new Lamborghini with all the latest features: street-legal self-drive, built-in wi-fi, a comprehensive theft protection system, and tinted windows that he'd had to get special permission just to have on the road. He could afford it on his generous salary as an industrial plant manager, a job that he was desperately trying to keep. For Mr. Hummel had been accused of a crime that was sure to get him possibly imprisoned and forever blackballed from the industry: breaking into his boss's home and rifling through every computer in it, searching for "test results" and "performance data", as the computers' logs showed. The motive was obvious. Karl's company took performance reviews seriously, even for management, and a bad review could get him fired almost as easily as a burglary conviction could.

There was very little physical evidence. There was no sign of forced entry, nothing was taken, and the Greenbriars had only known that they'd been burglarized from their computers' search history. There were bits of Mr. Hummel's hair and skin found on the premises, but that didn't mean anything; he and his family had been to Mr. and Mrs. Greenbriar's home before, and their kids had even played together. The state prosecutor, Phoebus Venge, had outright accused Karl of using those visits to examine the Greenbriars' security system, which was antiquated and unprotected against magic. Which Papyrus found interesting, as all the Greenbriars were mages; Mrs. Greenbriar was a teacher at Toriel's school, so all four of her children went there, so by necessity they'd all received the genetic modification that gave human beings access to the cheat codes of the universe, a power that was once reserved solely for monsters. The Hummels, on the other hand, did not have that power; Karl and his wife were somewhat wary of it, despite the protests of their three children.

It had completely ruined their relationship, Papyrus noted, watching Mr. Greenbriar glare daggers at Karl across the conference room. The suit-clad skeleton felt most sorry for the children, as both sides had decided to bring their families along. The Hummels' twin thirteen-year-old girls and ten-year-old boy looked nervous, while the Greenbriars' eight-year-old seemed particularly perturbed at being dragged into this, and Papyrus could tell that the kid just wanted to fling a fireball at the other side and be done with it. Papyrus was glad that the trial hadn't actually started yet; this was just a deposition, an informal session to which Karl, desperate to clear his name, had readily agreed, willingly answering questions that Papyrus, experienced in lawyerating, didn't particularly want him to answer. Karl had known that the Greenbriars would be out of town, and even where they were going; Mrs. Greenbriar had recently finished grading applicants' tests, and she'd taken her kids and husband on a weekend vacation.

Probably the least credible of Karl's claims was that he'd taken the bus to the airport on the day the crime was committed, attending his uncle's funeral in Boston. The way he told it, his wife had taken their other car to take the girls to soccer practice while his Lambo sat in the garage. Phoebus had asked a lot of questions about that bus ride, and Karl had stuttered out his answers as Phoebus grew increasingly more smug. He'd also asked a lot of questions about Karl's car; it wasn't the only one of its kind, but it was exceedingly rare in the United States, and the closest other one was in California. Once he'd gotten the answers he wanted, there was a knock on the door.

"Right on time," Phoebus said, a wide smile on his face, and he gladly got up to welcome his star witness.

Papyrus' eyes went googly in shock as he saw who it was. The court reporter gasped. The Greenbriar kids happily, eagerly greeted the witness, as they'd attended school with him. The Hummel kids looked scared, particularly the youngest; he had monster friends, but none of them were Prince Asriel Dreemurr, who strode into the room with a slightly bored expression on his face and his ever-present green-glowing bracelets on his wrists. Not everyone knew what the bracelets were for, but it was common knowledge that Asriel and Frisk went everywhere together, and by summoning His Highness to a deposition, the prosecutor was running the risk of annoying Frisk Dreemurr, whose daily LOADs saved many thousands of lives. (They were of no help in this case. The house had been burglarized on a Saturday; the burglary had been discovered on the following Monday.) Phoebus just hoped he wasn't annoying Charles, something that he and the defendant had in common; Karl had sworn blind that he couldn't possibly have burglarized the home of someone from Toriel's school, because he wasn't insane enough to earn Charles' ire.

"Thank you for coming, Your Highness, I'll make this very quick," Phoebus said, giving the goat a seat. "Your hearing is extremely sensitive, is that correct?"

"Yes," Asriel replied, smirking a bit, a smirk matched by the Greenbriar children. 'Extremely sensitive' was a modest way of putting it. Asriel's ears were legendary.

"How far were you from the Greenbriar residence when the burglary occurred?"

"Slightly over a mile," Asriel replied. It had been pure luck that he'd been near the Greenbriar home at the time, bicycling with his siblings. The school year still hadn't started, but he'd met the Greenbriar kids at the mall and they'd brought up the burglary to him. He'd gone to the police with what he knew.

"Did you hear the engine of a prototype Lamborghini at the time?" Papyrus knew the question was coming but winced anyway, as did Karl's wife. Karl simply looked shocked and perturbed. Their girls looked about to cry; the boy stared at Asriel, unmoving.

"Yes," Asriel replied. "I heard the engine approach and turn off. Five minutes later, I heard it turn back on and drive away."

"Wait a minute!" Karl shouted, against all advice and common sense. "How did you know it's a prototype Lamborghini?"

Asriel was under no obligation to answer him but did so anyway. "That's like asking how you know somebody has an accent. Your car's got a telltale sound. That car, or one just like it, was definitely there." And that ended it, Papyrus realized. The skeleton couldn't possibly impugn the credibility of **this** witness. Karl had means, motive, and opportunity, and a car just like his was at the scene.

Papyrus' puzzle-solving sense worked furiously, and suddenly, he had his answer.

* * *

hey. didja follow the clues? or maybe you're just reading the story, waiting for my brother to do something funny.

SANS! QUIT INSINUATING THAT I'M COMIC RELIEF! I AM A VERY SERIOUS LAWYER NOW AND I DO VERY SERIOUS LAWYER THINGS! LIKE TRIALS! AND DEPOSITIONS! AND PUZZLE SOLVING! I EVEN HAVE A BRIEFCASE FULL OF THAT PAPER THAT'S LONGER THAN NORMAL PAPER BECAUSE LAWYERS USE IT!

heh. well, this is the first puzzle. it's pretty easy, i'm sure you can figure it out. good luck, kid.


	2. Chapter 2

"Prince Asriel, you heard the car, but did you hear the driver?" Papyrus asked in his lawyer voice, the voice that tricked people into thinking he was a competent adult.

A little bleating crept into Asriel's chuckle. "No, Papyrus, my ears aren't **that** good."

"Are you going to try to convince us that it was one of the other cars, portaled over to make a trip?" Phoebus asked, smirking. The idea was ridiculous.

"It was Mr. Hummel's car," Papyrus said. He was smiling, but it was hard to tell; he was a skeleton, after all. He made a lawyerly flourish, sticking his bony finger up into the air. "But, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Hummel was not the one driving it!"

"Then enlighten us, who was?" the prosecutor replied, eyebrow raised.

"Nobody was!" Papyrus replied, thoroughly enjoying himself. This was the best part of his job. "It drives all by itself! Somebody told the car where to go, it's a self-driving car, not a self-directing car, I don't know who would want a self-directing car. But I do know who couldn't be seen through the tinted windows! I do know who had a monster's help breaking in! I do know who would search all the computers for 'test results', because he didn't know what to look for and thought it might be hidden on one!" he beamed, and his gaze and grin fell upon Mrs. Greenbriar. "The culprit" Papyrus really liked the word 'culprit' and resolved to say it more. "wasn't looking for your husband's data, Mrs. Greenbriar; he was looking for **yours**!" he said with a flourish of his other arm, his finger still sticking into the air. "The culprit was left at home with the car, while his family was out of the house! And that culprit... is **YOU**!" Papyrus finished, pointing directly at the Hummels' son.

Ten-year-old Richard Hummel trembled in his seat, clutching the cushion, unsure what to say. "That's... stupid!" he settled on. "I didn't do anything!"

" **Don't lie** ," Asriel said forcefully. "I can hear you lying, and what do you think your monster friend is going to say when **I** ask it how it helped you get in?" Richard had no reply except to close his tear-dripping eyes, still clutching the cushion, everyone else from both families staring at him, aghast in shock. Karl's hands clenched and unclenched, but Richard's mother looked even angrier, her face beet red.

"Your application was approved," Mrs. Greenbriar said softly. "Your acceptance letter is in the mail right now." His editing attempt hadn't succeeded; she never brought her work home with her. The older Hummels' heads turned abruptly, their thoughts roiling. Richard had applied for the Donald J. Trump school and not even told them about it, then broke into the Greenbriars' house to make sure he got in, and he'd even been accepted beforehand! Richard started sobbing louder, and his parents turned to him.

Phoebus mentally kicked himself and took control of the situation, talking before the screaming could begin. "I should have realized immediately," he said loudly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel, but I'm going to remand this case to juvenile court. Your son is in a lot of trouble right now."

Karl and his wife tried to think up a reply, and the Greenbriars looked like they wanted to say something, but a casual, gentle voice said, "You could do that, but you don't have to" as the door opened. The speaker, an unassuming preteen girl in a striped shirt, green-glowing bracelets, and loose pants fit for bicycling, immediately commanded the attention of everyone in the room. The court reporter stopped cold. Whatever the Hummels or the Greenbriars were going to say to the prosecutor or to Papyrus died in their throats, and whatever the prosecutor was going to continue with suddenly became unimportant.

Mrs. Greenbriar gave a nod, as did her oldest son. Her twelve-year-old smiled and waved, as she'd shared some classes with the princess last school year. "Greetings, Your Highness," Papyrus said formally in his lawyer voice, and Frisk smiled at him.

"Are you going to send him to jail?" the Greenbriars' youngest kid blurted out, looking at Frisk and pointing to Richard. Kids his age often had inflated ideas of what Frisk did and didn't do.

"No, that's the prosecutor and judge's job," Frisk replied. "But the prosecutor could show mercy and let his parents handle it." Judging from the looks the Hummels were giving their son, Frisk wasn't certain if it was actually mercy or not.

"No TV, no video games, I'm locking down your phone, you're grounded for a **year** ," Karl said abruptly, standing up and yanking his son by the arm, dragging him out of the chair. He looked at Mrs. Greenbriar, avoiding even a glance at Frisk. "After that, we'll see how well he's done in... his new school." He glanced at the Greenbriars and the prosecutor. "Is that all right with you, or should it be longer?"

"Given the circumstances, I don't see a reason to burden the court's time with this matter," Phoebus replied. This was prosecutor-speak for _I am not nearly foolish enough to argue with the girl turning back time._

"That's fine, and I'm certain Her Majesty will add something appropriate," Mrs. Greenbriar replied, although she wasn't quite sure just what Toriel would do.

"I am **so** sorry about all this, Mr. Greenbriar, we can talk about it later," Karl apologized to his boss, and Frisk stepped aside as Karl dragged his crying son out of the room, his family following. Frisk didn't hear everything Karl was telling Richard, but it sounded like a promise of corporal if not capital punishment. Asriel did but chose not to repeat it, as his brother was mentioned more than once, right along with the possibility of instant gory death.

"WOWIE! ANOTHER CASE RESOLVED! I LOVE HAPPY ENDINGS!" Papyrus crowed.


	3. Cookie Monster

"IT'S RETURN DAY, AND I'M NOT DOING LAWYER STUFF ON RETURN DAY! AND IF IT'S REAL SUPER IMPORTANT, IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYWAY BECAUSE COURT'S NOT OPEN AND THEY'LL FEED YOU IN JAIL! LEAVE A TRUTHFUL MESSAGE! NYEH!" There. That was the perfect message to leave on his voicemail, Papyrus judged. He'd put it back to something else tomorrow.

As holidays went, it was certainly better than April Fool's Day; as someone who had to deal with fools even foolier than himself at his fooliest, Papyrus had finally received jape overload. Once, Papyrus had outright laughed in a client's face when he claimed he didn't do it; Papyrus had thought the man was joking, as he'd been busted by three undercover cops the instant he tried to rob a store (apparently not having gotten the memo on the whole rememberer business). He hadn't been joking, and Papyrus, with all his experience at puzzles, still could not puzzle out why humans said things that nobody, including themselves, believed. Surveillance cameras had recorded the whole thing, and when Papyrus had confronted his client with this fact, the man had claimed that Papyrus was really working for the prosecutor's office. Papyrus had used that to tell the judge that his client was obviously insane, but that was the judge's turn to laugh; if denial of reality were an acceptable insanity defense, the mental hospitals would be full and the prisons would be empty.

But this was no day to dwell on such things. This was a day of merriment, a day specifically set aside to celebrate being able to live **on** Mt. Ebbot instead of **under** it. The tall skeleton, ever conscientious, had noted who wasn't at the parade, and had chosen to host some small extra festivities of his own for the shy monsters that didn't do so well in crowds. He'd gone down to the local K-Mart and bought balloons, paper plates, all kinds of other Return Day-themed party supplies (Papyrus and Frisk happened to agree about the nature of corporate America), and an extra-large bag of Nabisco oatmeal raisin cookies, which he made absolutely sure did not contain the fateful ingredients found in Haribo Sugar-Free Gummi Bears and which he secretly hid in his room, locking his door with an alarm that would scream if it were opened with magic and not a key. He took the time to find Napstablook, a Whimsun, Bratty and Catty (who had watched the parade on TV), Burgerpants, and a Madjick (in that order), while Sans had... been Sans. Papyrus tried to sigh the human way, but of course it didn't work. His brother was such a lazybones. Sans had the power to go anywhere, and he usually didn't go anywhere.

Papyrus led a Whimsalot to his door, happily talking to the chivalrous creature about his profession and the way the human court system worked, officially started the party with everyone seated at a table, ("THIS PARTY IS NOW OFFICIALLY STARTED, SO EVERYTHING WE DO NOW IS STUFF THAT PEOPLE DO AT PARTIES!"), walked up to his room, unlocked the door, and picked up a surprisingly light bag of cookies. Wait, that wasn't right. He pulled the plastic container out of the torn bag, staring in frustrated amazement at the cookie-free air, and he distinctly remembered intending to surprise everyone there with cookies and not air.

" **NYEEEEEEHHHHHH!** " Papyrus screamed, storming out of his room, slamming the door behind him, empty, cookie-less bony fists clenched in anger as he stomped down the stairs. " **WHO TOOK MY COOKIES?!** " Napstablook faded through the wall. Whimsun hid under the table. Bratty and Catty leaned back in shock. Madjick just stared at him, smiling his grin and floating above his seat. Whimsalot looked around at the other monsters, pointing its little spear around.

"gee, papy, you look pretty.. nabisc'd off."

"SANS! THIS IS NO TIME FOR PUNS! THOSE COOKIES WERE FOR EVERYBODY! AND SOMEBODY SNUCK INTO MY SHELTER AND STOLE THEM! AND WE'RE GOING TO FIND THE FOUL FIEND WHO DARED DO THE DASTARDLY DEED!" The shy monsters cowered even further.

"You're being, like, totally super mega mad. They were just cookies, geez," Bratty said, while Catty said simultaneously, "That is, like, so rude. Do you treat all your guests that way?"

Papyrus tried to calm himself down, gritting his teeth together. "WAS IT YOU? DID YOU SEE ANYONE GO IN THERE?"

"Like, no, we were watching TV," Catty said, as Bratty said, "We were watching the after-after-after-parade." "We didn't even know you HAD food," Bratty added, as Catty explained, "We totally ate before we got here." "Your cookies smell all right, though," Catty added, wrinkling her kitty nose. "Somebody here definitely ate them."

Papyrus turned to Madjick, who just grinned at him, and the skeleton knew when interrogating a witness wouldn't help. Madjick's answers and reasonings always made his skull hurt, especially when the monstrous wizard started casting its flashy, extravagant spells. "BURGERPANTS?" he asked instead.

"No way! If I stole food from anyone, Mettaton wouldn't just fire me, he'd on-fire me. I always know when people are going places they shouldn't, because curious little guys get into burger stuff, too. Maybe it was before you invited me?" That would limit the suspects to Napstablook, the Whimsun, the girls, and possibly the Temmie sitting at the table, licking small, flat flecks off her fur.

"TEMMIE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Papyrus asked.

"Watching you fail at life," Temmie said in a serious voice. "pet TEM NAO?" Bratty and Catty eagerly cuddled the mysterious little creature, and even the Whimsun popped its head out to watch.

Papyrus took the chance to talk to it. "If you know anything, tell me and nothing bad will happen," he said in his lawyer voice, the one he lied to scared clients with. The Whimsun just shook its head, although it did seem more relaxed. The Whimsalot flew to its kin's side protectively, shaking its head at Papyrus. Wait, the little creature flew, maybe it had flown in through the window? Or maybe it had simply phased through, could a Whimsun- and then suddenly Papyrus had a suspect.

"BLOOKY! C'MON OUT! EVEN IF YOU DID DO IT, BUSTIN' DOESN'T MAKE ME FEEL GOOD!"

"oh... it wasn't me... and i don't know who... i even brought food... but i ate it... sorry..." Napstablook visited the trash and pulled out an empty, but still unopened, box of crackers.

"GRRRR!" Papyrus tried to growl, although it sounded exactly like a skeleton shouting "GRRRR!" He looked around for physical evidence, while the others talked about how silly he was being, Sans fruitlessly trying to defend his brother. He found no evidence in his room, no telltale hairs or fur. Nothing incriminating on the stairs, a couch that needed vacuuming of chocolate crumbs, a clean kitchen with an ordinary-height sink that didn't have anything in it. Papyrus wracked his skull for answers.

"WAIT A MINUTE!" the skeleton said, realizing. "YOU-"


	4. Chapter 4

"-MADE A NABISCO PUN! YOU DIDN'T SAY 'YOU SHOULD HAVE TRIED TO KEEBLER YOUR COOKIES SAFE' OR 'YOU LEFT A BIG OR-EE-HOLE IN YOUR SECURITY' OR 'MAYBE MR. FIELDS TOOK THEM'! THEFT IS A VERY BAD PRANK, EVEN FOR YOU!"

"'course it was me. you think i'm gonna let someone else steal your cookies? and did you really want to celebrate a new holiday with store-bought stuff..." The doorbell rang. "...when **she** lives up the hill?" Sans opened the door to greet Her Majesty, Toriel Dreemurr, whose smile was nearly as wide as her platter of homemade butter pecan, oatmeal raisin, sugar, chocolate chip, cinnamon butterscotch, and chocolate fudge cookies. She'd originally baked quite a lot more of that last variety, judging from the crumbs on the plate, but Papyrus did not have to use his puzzle skills to know who ate most of them. "hey, old lady."

"Good afternoon, everyone," Toriel greeted her subjects, and the four floating monsters bowed deeply in mid-air, Madjick turning its bow into a somersault. Burgerpants froze, a nervous smile on his face.

"Like, thanks for bringing us some awesome cookies, Your Majesty," Bratty greeted her, while Catty said, "These cookies smell ACTUALLY good, not I'm-just-saying-that-for-politeness good."

"YOUR MAJESTY! WHAT A PLEASANT SURPRISE!" Papyrus was surprised that the Queen had done something this nice for them before being surprised at himself at being surprised. He'd been around humans too long, and vanishingly few of the humans he regularly dealt with understood compassion or generosity. But Toriel was not human and would not neglect the least of her kind, even those who hid in caves, dealt in junk, flipped burgers, or, worst of all, argued in courtrooms.

"so, how're the kids?"

"Asriel and Frisk are a little tired from today, doing well," Toriel answered before realizing that Sans was joking. 'How're the kids' about **those** kids? "Charles shall be fine. Are you being nice to your brother?" she asked, setting down the platter. Of course she'd heard Papyrus accuse him.

"yeah, i got him a puzzle."

"WHAT PUZZ- **SANS!** " Bratty and Catty covered their mouths, laughing. Annoyed, Papyrus sat down on a chair with a loud clack of bone, then started putting cookies on his plate. Temmie leapt upon the tray, snagged a cookie in her mouth with a flourish, and triumphantly leapt back to her paper plate, where she dug in, shredding the cookie and the paper both, licking up crumbs and freshly made Temmie Flakes. Napstablook had previously eaten but absorbed one for politeness' sake. Whimsalot flipped open its helmet and speared one, sharing the cookie-kebab with its cousin. Catty took small bites; Bratty took large ones. Madjick eschewed the plate, preferring to levitate cinnamon butterscotch into its mouth. Burgerpants was just grateful for something that wasn't company food.

Abruptly, a man-sized glob of black slime appeared in an empty section of the room, messily splattering against the eastern wall at fifty miles an hour, a few white bits clattering loudly against the drywall. Whimsun briefly ducked beneath the table again. "I knew I'd forgotten a variable," Gaster said, oozing back into something more recognizable as a shape, then forming a sharply defined, slender figure with a waistcoat, bowing deeply to the Queen. "Apologies. Have I calculated the time correctly, at least?"

"yup, she just goat here."

"HI DAD!" Papyrus considered telling on his brother, but people telling on people were a big part of his job and he didn't want to bring his work home with him. Besides, he was too busy using his mouth to eat cookies.

"Greetings, children. Greetings, guests. Greetings, Your Majesty." Gaster's fingers snagged a sugar cookie as he found himself a seat, and it disappeared into his mask. "Your mastery of chemical subtleties-" He corrected himself. "Your cooking is excellent, as always."

"Thank you, W.D. How was Geneva?" Gaster had gone to Switzerland for a round-table with the world's leading physicists and mages, who were generally the same people.

"Fruitful and lively," he replied. "For this human subgroup, holiday merriment and fundamental research are identical." Madjick silently held out a hand. "Of course I had not forgotten," Gaster said, handing it a thumb drive. "Do be careful with that knowledge; I imagine self-inversion is less pleasant for you than myself." Nobody asked what he was talking about, least of all Sans, who had turned two oatmeal raisin cookies and one chocolate chip cookie into a sugary sandwich.

"SANS, YOU'RE SO GREEDY. YOU ATE THOSE OTHER COOKIES AND NOW YOU'RE EATING THESE TOO?"

"only tried one of those. didn't grab 'em for myself."

"THEN WHO ARE THEY FOR?"

* * *

Gasterblasters were notoriously non-picky eaters, as several chomped pieces of furniture in the basement proved. They were usually okay down there, only coming when they were silently called, but they still needed occasional affection and outdoor time, lest they get restless and destroy the house with beams of hot photonic death. "who's a good boy? yes you are! yes you are!" Sans said, tossing a handful of store-bought cookies in the air and watching the floating heads snag them with their split jaws. Gaster took a cookie in each hand- all of them- and expertly flung them into his creations' waiting mouths.

Papyrus lifted a cookie into the air, but a gasterblaster chomped it right out of his hand. "CURSES! HOW AM I EVER GOING TO GET THEM TO LIKE ME IF THEY KEEP DOING THAT?!"

"well, you gotta feed 'em quick. you can't just lawyer around."

"SAAAAAAAAAAAANS!"


	5. Chapter 5

The problem with most of Papyrus' day job, the skeleton reckoned, was that so very little of it was actual puzzles. He knew how to perform the terrible alchemy of turning plain English into inscrutable legalese, he'd grown used to judges (and the local judges has grown used to him), and he was well-versed in putting cases together, but the job had lost any joy it ever had. Even complicated civil suits weren't 'here's why this hitherto-unknown fact is true', they were 'here's all the reasons why this extremely obvious fact is true and you should give my client lots of money for it'. The Dreemurrs really did protect their copyrights and likenesses from corporate ill-doers, even in places like China where the national government had specifically forbade cheesing Their Majesties off but local governments tended to overlook it. (The Chinese government had taken it as a dire threat when the Dreemurrs first sent, of all things, a skeleton to represent their interests. More than once, Papyrus had wished that he could change form like his dad, but only a few monsters could substantially alter what they looked like.)

So, when the Queen of Monsters called him to the school with a disturbed, puzzled note in her voice, his ribcage leapt for joy. Finally! Something cool to do! The Great Papyrus packed up his reams of paperwork (the Harbatiflobber case could wait- it was Friday, after all), leapt into his car, and drove from his office at exactly the speed limit, passing school buses going the other way. Toriel was at her desk as promised, although there was substantially less paperwork on it, and her face was scrunched up into a deep, concerned frown. Papyrus felt kind of guilty at being happy for something interesting to do, but he was around guilty people all day so it didn't affect him much.

"Thank you for coming, Papyrus," Toriel said as politely as she could, although a frown of dismay crept across her large snootle. "There is a... problem with some of my students. There have been some unpleasant accusations of activities occurring away from school grounds. I would like you to meet a group of parents and children on the third floor of Grillby's tomorrow for lunch," she explained, handing him a list of names and phone numbers, carefully written down in exceptional longhand. A human would have emailed him, Papyrus realized; then again, a human would have had this conversation over the phone. "I would go myself, but..." She shook her large head. "Humans find me too imposing, and I do not wish to inadvertently force a false confession." Her eight-foot height was part of that, but adults were scared of her because of her children; children were scared of her because she was the principal. But she was only made of magic and softness, and she found it mildly amusing being constantly feared by people who could easily lift her with one hand. Papyrus- who was physically composed of bone minerals, like his brother- was among the densest of monsters.

"NEVER FEAR, YOUR MAJESTY! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL SOLVE YOUR PUZZLE! PLEASE, TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU KNOW, AND I SHALL SOLVE IT IN... HMM, WHAT'S LESS THAN A JIFFY BUT MORE THAN TWO SHAKES?"

Toriel chuckled, her mood lightening a bit. "No, Papyrus, I do not wish to color your investigation with my own thoughts. The only thing I will tell you is that I have discussed the matter with my students, and all three of them seem honest." Toriel's combination of superhuman hearing and long exposure to children made her an excellent- but not infallible- lie detector.

So Papyrus was left to mull over the unknown mystery, although there wasn't anything to mull yet. That night, Sans read him the true bedtime story of the bunny monster who laid eggs, and he woke up for a fun-filled day of puzzle solving. It was a wonderful, sunny day for a drive to Grillby's, totally unlike the cold, pouring rain that had hammered the entire East Coast all day Thursday. The place was crowded as usual, but of course the skeleton got the bone-white glove treatment.

"It wasn't me. I don't even know where you live!" Papyrus heard a boy protest as the elevator to the VIP section opened. Papyrus always made a point of being right on time, and he was used to dealing with both early and late clients; these four families, sitting in the center, were all early, both lured by Toriel's promise of a compensated meal at Grillby's and worried for the sake of their children. Four families? Papyrus was briefly puzzled before the puzzle began; Toriel had only mentioned three.

"Then he was wearing your clothes!" a girl replied, just as loudly, before her father shushed her and pointed to the approaching skelawyer. Of course Papyrus was wearing his lawyer suit; he was, after all, appearing on behalf of Her Majesty and needed to look the part.

"Greetings, humans," Papyrus began in his lawyer voice. "Your principal has sent me to end this mystery and discover the truth, whatever it may be."

"There's no **mystery** ," a large man said. "We just have a man who can't admit when his daughter's lying through her teeth."

"Those plants were destroyed, and she wasn't dirty!" her father shouted in response. "Now, maybe she didn't see things right, but **somebody** is harassing her!"

"Ahem," Papyrus said. "Can we please begin the introductions before the accusations and the recriminations? As you know, I am Papyrus, representative of the Dreemurrs and solver of puzzles." It had taken a lot of annoyed judges for Papyrus to stop introducing himself as 'The Great'. "There are more people here than I had expected." Among the group sat four boys and one girl who were all a bit younger than Frisk, and the skeleton idly wondered if they were in any of her classes. The girl pulled on the chair of the boy next to her to help scoot it over, and Papyrus pulled up his own chair to sit.

"Oh, I should have called you," a woman said. She and her husband were dressed to the nines; probably not Dreemurr or Trump wealthy, but clearly rich. Their similarly dressed son sat brooding between them, a small scowl on his face, arms folded. "My name is Vanna Carslyle. This is my husband, Bruce, and my son, Shane." Papyrus surmised that Shane's allowance was probably only four orders of magnitude less than Frisk's.

"Hector Smith," a man introduced himself, holding out his strong hand for Papyrus to shake. Papyrus was certain he worked with his hands every day, although he surely augmented his trade with magic. "My wife, Barbara, her son, Chris, and our son, Jonathan." Papyrus wondered what having the name of 'John Smith' would do for the kid's future life, but it couldn't be any worse than having a half-brother five years older than he was.

"Robert Gustav," the large man said. "And this is Michael. Our wife's at home with our other children." Robert was fat but not slovenly; his son was slovenly but not fat.

"Max Longfellow," the girl's father said, also shaking Papyrus' bony hand. "This is Debbie. These boys have been giving her trouble." Max was another blue-collar sort, but Debbie was dressed somewhat like Frisk on a formal occasion, although Papyrus would surely never tell Frisk that.

"Drinks are ready," the waitress said before anyone could respond to that, having taken their orders before Papyrus got there. "Waters, orange juice for you and you, vodka, and hot chocolate and whipped cream for the two of you," the waitress said, handing cups to Debbie and the boy next to her. "Sure you don't want anything else?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I ate before," the kid replied. He looked a bit dressed-down for the occasion, in just a shirt and jeans, but at least they fit him perfectly. "We had a big breakfast." Debbie smiled at him.

"That's William," Debbie said. "His dad has to work a lot. He doesn't go to our school." William nodded at the skeleton, as both his hands were occupied holding the cup. He drank slowly, savoring the taste.

"Glad you're here," the waitress said to Papyrus, with a light subtext of _before these people killed each other_. "The usual?"

"The usual," Papyrus said, somewhat wistfully. Grillby could cook fire spaghetti that Papyrus could never even come close to. "With ice water." The waitress left, glad that she was, in fact, getting paid enough to deal with this. "Now, before this gathering dissolves into a horrible mess of threats and violence that is best resolved with the presence of a bailiff, I would like to know the story as the accuser tells it. In chronological order, as you experienced it." That last sentence was commonly used for rememberer testimony.

"Go on, Debbie," Max said. "Do Wednesday and Thursday. I'll talk about Friday."

"Michael egged our house before Dad got home," Debbie explained. "Then he ran down the street before I could get my shoes on."

"It wasn't **me** , I don't **know** where you **live** ," Michael explained again.

"It was you!" Debbie replied angrily. "It was your shoes and your hair! I know it was you!"

"You can't tell from shoes!" Michael replied.

"CEASE!" Papyrus demanded, and they ceased. It took effort to return to his lawyer voice. "Your arguing isn't helping my puzzling. Continue... to **Thursday**." He made it sound like Doomsday.

"Before we do, I want to explain something about where we're at," Max said. "We live in kind of a rural part of town. Streets are safe, Debbie's out on her bicycle a lot, and we've got plenty of land and a big dirt field outside our back porch. I keep saying I'll plant something there, but I never do. Sorry, keep going, Debbie."

"On Thursday, a boy was out back of our house, smashing our long flower planter. When I heard him, he ran across the field, and he had his hood up, but his clothes looked just like clothes I saw him wear," she said, pointing at John.

"This was when I was home," Max explained. "I tried to find him, but I couldn't tell which way he went," he lamented. "It's a good thing my daughter could fix that whole planter back together again."

"Can I say somethin' now?" Chris said, turning to the skeleton. "He was with me. My friends were all there. Whoever you saw, and whatever clothes he was wearing, it wasn't him."

"You're very nice to hang out with your kid brother like that," Bruce pointed out.

"You kiddin'? He's a spellcaster," Chris explained. Human mages were more powerful and flashy than monsters, unable to do certain subtle things without long verbal spells, but at Chris's age he loved powerful and flashy stuff. And his little half-brother would, Papyrus reasoned, cast spells their father wouldn't.

The waitress came by with their food then, serving plates of fish and steak and lobster, and, to Papyrus' surprise, his fire spaghetti. Then again, Grillby had probably started on it once he saw the skeleton walk in the door.

"And what of... **Friday**?" Papyrus asked, as the group dug into their meals.

"I got a call from Toriel yesterday morning," Max explained. "She warned me that somebody would set a trap for my daughter, dumping ink in her hair, just when she'd gone over to meet her friend after school." In another timeline, it had been bad enough for him to call the principal; being a rememberer, she could tell him what had happened. "He'd come by about fifteen minutes before she left. He was setting up a pretty sophisticated system, right over our front door. When I saw him, he ran for a ways, then the little turd ducked behind some bushes, an old guy pointed which way he went, but I lost him. The back of his head looked **just like yours** ," he said, glaring at Shane.

"I **told** you, I was playing League with my clan!" Shane replied angrily, bits of smoked herring flying from his mouth. "Do I need to get my clan leader's phone number or ask the server admins where I was?"

"That's where he is, every Friday," Vanna agreed.

"It no longer matters what anyone has to say!" Papyrus proclaimed. "For I, the Great Papyrus, know the truth!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Go on, then," Hector said with a wry expression. "What is the truth?"

"The truth-" Papyrus started, and William abruptly bolted from the table, spilling his still-unfinished cup of hot chocolate before Debbie could catch it with her magic. Papyrus' hand lashed out, and suddenly William found his exit blocked by magical bones, and Papyrus summoned more to form a cubic cage around him. It wasn't actually made of bone minerals; a human could have broken through it easily. "HEY! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO WAIT UNTIL I'M FINISHED ACCUSING YOU! THE NERVE OF SOME PEOPLE!" Papyrus switched back to his lawyer voice. "Anyway, as I was saying, William is indeed the culprit. And he is not what he appears to be!" Papyrus continued with a flourish. The figure in the cage began to writhe and twist, changing forms and desperately trying to squeeze between the bones before finally giving up and settling on its true form. The insectile Changelouse, only a foot and a half long, began chittering nervously. Vanna Carslyle clutched her pearls at the sight. Debbie was speechless, but her lip began quivering.

"Tell me," Robert said, frowning. "How did you know? Can you sense humans or monsters?" The Dreemurrs' abilities were common knowledge. If Asgore or Toriel had been there, the situation would have been resolved at once; they could have told the difference just by hearing it breathe. Asriel would have known even before getting out of the elevator.

"OH NO! I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT A HUMAN WAS THE FIRST TIME I SAW ONE!" Papyrus blurted before switching back again. "I refer, of course, to the curious incident of the footprints left in the mud!" Papyrus couldn't believe his luck; he was actually getting to quote Sherlock Holmes!

"What footprints?" Bruce asked, staring at the Changelouse.

"That was the curious incident!" Papyrus replied, widening his mouth enough that everyone could tell he was grinning. "Consider! It had rained enough to make fish happy on Thursday!" Papyrus could name one fish who was happy about it. He turned to Max, still grinning. "The culprit had escaped across a dirt field in pouring rain, and yet you did not know which way he went!"

Max scowled. "I knew something was wrong. He wasn't flying, he was **running**. But he was too light to leave deep footprints, is that right?"

"Correct!" Papyrus replied. "He's very light indeed!" He turned to the group. "So he eats light, too! Human children, no matter how much breakfast they've eaten, don't just order a cup of hot chocolate at **Grillby's** and nothing else!" The human children at the table had been stuffing their faces; the food was delicious. "I doubt he ate anything this morning with his dad- he might not even have one of those!" A lot of Papyrus' clients didn't have dads either, although not in the literal, monster sense.

"That's not right! I saw his dad!" Debbie replied, still confused and shocked that her friend would do this to her, tears in her eyes. She'd known he was a monster, but he'd told her that his family looked exactly like humans and wanted to keep that a secret; he'd never changed forms in front of her.

"Have you ever seen his dad and him at the same time?" Papyrus asked, and she realized. "And that old guy who 'pointed out which way he went' was him too!" he said to Max, who nodded angrily. "That's right out of the playbook for shapeshifters. If there is such a playbook. I think William could write one. And he laid a trap for you," he quietly said to Debbie. "That friend you went to meet yesterday was him?"

"Uh-huh," she hesitantly said.

"Who else would know that you were leaving, and could set the trap right before you left?" Papyrus asked gently so she wouldn't cry, but she cried anyway.

"Why?!" Debbie asked the creature. "Why would you be so **mean** and pretend to be my friends?!"

"I saw you with them on the bus," the monster complained in a startlingly human voice. "You were hanging out with them, and not me! I didn't want you to keep being with them! You're my only friend, so I should be your only friend too!" The Changelouse thought this was a perfectly reasonable thing to say, but nobody else thought that.

Max rose from the table, fists clenched, ready to earn some EXP. "She's still just **ten years old** , you psychotic piece of-"

"DON'T DO A VIOLENCE!" Papyrus shouted, holding up a bony hand. "IT DOESN'T THINK LIKE YOU THINK IT THINKS. IT'S REALLY INNOCENT EXCEPT FOR BEING GUILTY." Grumbling, Max sat down, still glaring at the creature. "BESIDES, KING FLUFFYBUNS CAN DO WHAT HE WANTS TO BAD MONSTERS, AND THIS ONE MADE TORIEL VEXED! BUT IT'S JUSTICE, NOT DUSTICE." Papyrus was worried that he might be lying. The human justice system had problems dealing with unruly monsters (who were fortunately quite rare); in response, Congress had basically given His Majesty total legal control over monsterdom. Asgore hadn't yet fed any offenders to Charles, but the option was always open.

The group finished their food before leaving, and Papyrus made a solid effort of slurping down spaghetti noodles even without having lips.

* * *

The next day, a rather unwholesome high-resolution video, starring a notable anti-monster activist and a traumatized duck, was posted all over the internet. The man denied everything, but his face had been clearly visible.


End file.
